Survivor
by Scritch
Summary: In the process of being revised! A survivor of the Summersea pirate attack deals with war as well as discrimination about herself and her heritage.
1. Chapter One

AN: So, I'm back, and I'm re-writing this story, because I'm into a Tamora Pierce funk and can't get out of it. Note the word 're-write!' It's gonna be different. Juda was a Sue before (and previously named Kezia… I figure if I'm gonna redo her, I need a clean slate), and I'm going to eradicate those traits. It will also not turn the course of the books dramatically, and hopefully barely at all. So no AU, not really. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter One**

A rain of red-hot metal pelted the ship from what seemed like all directions, sending up cries of pain and anger from those fallen victim to it. A chunk of burning wood smashed directly through a porthole into the galley, shattering glass. More screams came from below as the trapped slaves realized their peril.

Cautiously, Juda put down the arm she'd flung up to protect herself with. She blinked to clear her spotted vision caused by the blinding thunderbolt she'd seen just before the ship exploded. Looking around, she had just enough time to dance away from the burning corpse come flying at her, landing before her feet.

The girl wrinkled her nose and jumped to the side as a cannonball landed in the water only a few feet away from them and the ship rocked violently, sending the body sliding towards her. Her arms flailed as she tried to regain her balance, but fell to the ground on her hands and knees. A splinter of damaged wood thrust into her right palm as she came down, and Juda cursed repeatedly, tears coming to her eyes in part from the pain and in part from the horrid smell and heat of the body beside her. Black and charred, the flesh was quickly being eaten by the flames feeding off it.

Hanging around the neck of the corpse, a flash of gold caught her eye. Sitting back on her knees, her hand bleeding, she warily reached out her good hand and tugged at the half-melted chain, receiving burned fingers for her efforts when she tried to hold the pendant. Blowing gently, she turned it over quickly so as to avoid consequence.

Her eyes widened, flickering from the familiar image to the body. _Crossed swords! _They were indented in the gold square, a symbol of Pauha's flagship. Pauha had worn the necklace since the deaths of their parents…

Flinging her arms behind her, Juda ignored the pain in her hand and scuttled as a crab would away from her sister's burnt shell. The reality of the situation slapped her in the face full-force as someone behind her screamed, "Look out!" Strong arms shoved her from behind, sending her tumbling down an open hatch to below-decks.

A high-pitched, deafening scream seared her eardrums as she fell to the bottom of the ladder, crumpling into a heap on the floor. The cause of the sound, a cannonball, broke through the center of the ship, sending wood, metal and people everywhere. The half of the ship she was in began to slant slowly. Barrels and boxes slid down, slaves weighted down by chains with them. A young man, thin, clawed at her legs, screaming. Disgusted by the touch she shook her foot and he fell towards the break where seawater was filling up.

Juda could see into the other half as it sank, the bow down first. Horror gripped her as with a huge sucking sound the force of the water pulled it down, creating a whirling bowl where it had been.

The tilt of the broken half-ship became steeper.

Something slammed into her, heavy. There were mutterings, then loud curses.

"Out o' th' way, ye little-" the pirate was cut off by the frantic cries of the slaves below, pounding at the entrance the two of them were currently blocking. The man pushed her down and scurried quick up the ladder. She grasped the rungs as gravity pulled them towards the whirlpool. A woman was not so lucky as she was pushed over by another and fell straight in. She circled briefly, terror on her face before she was pulled under.

Staring only for a moment, Juda wasted no time in following the man who'd cursed her.

There was wreckage everywhere. Hers was not the only ship to have been hit. Half the fleet – over half! – was destroyed. Juda grimaced and clenched her fists. Her nails pressed into her palms and a sharp pain reminded her of the splinter she'd received earlier.

The scream of a flying cannonball sounded again, and she looked up. The large stone was coming straight for her, would make impact at any moment. She crossed her arms over her face, waiting, thinking, _No weakness, show no weakness, pirates do not show weakness… I don't want to die!_

The broken vessel lurched once more as the cannonball grazed its side, and headed for the whirlpool.

Juda's mind and body jolted as she stumbled with the violent surge of the ship, toppling over the edge. Icy water surrounded her and she gasped. Liquid filled her lungs and her legs kicked, sending her to the surface. Her head broke through and she coughed violently, sucking in air as she could.

Wood moaned and creaked, and Juda turned to see the remains of her ship snap like a twig in the force of the pool. It had grown wider, devouring all that came too close. It reached for her hungrily.

Having grown up on a ship, born and raised on one, she had swimming techniques drilled into her brain that fled her now when she most needed them. Panicking, she kicked and paddled, desperate to get away. She gained no distance, but lost none either.

A nearby ship exploded. She looked up as the broken mast fell towards her, and the pool became ever stronger. Her mind screamed at her to move, but her legs would not work.

3...

Something tugged at her legs from below. The pool.

2...

_Move!_

1...

* * *

**A few days before**

_A full moon shone its soft glow on the cold waters of the Pebbled Sea and the ship anchored in their midst. The scarlet banner that flew above the dark sails rippled under a gentle breeze. Thick ropes that made up the ratlines creaked as they rocked with the slow swaying of the vessel. In the distance, a small strip of land could be sighted with the bare eye. Everything worked together to create the scene of calm._

_A harsh voice cut through the peace, and the wooden boards of the deck moaned under the pressure of pacing feet. At the stern of the ship, two figures of common build were silhouetted by the moonlight. One leaned on the brass-capped wheel, watching the other, more feminine person with amused obsidian eyes._

_The man wore clothes of great value, silk and adornments, hidden by the robes of a mage wrapped around him to ward off night's chill, showing only his expensive leather boots. His companion wore much the same, shunning skirts but wearing a robe of no importance or significance. She paused in her pacing and glared at the man in response to a comment, then continued her tirade._

_From below decks, bare feet padded up steps silently to the hatch. Lifting it with care, a pale honey-blonde head rose up slowly with all the presence of a ghost. It turned to the sound of voices, and then tilted to the sky. Light briefly shone over dark eyes, giving them a shimmer of life before wispy clouds drifted over to cover the moon and its providence._

_The small newcomer walked quickly to the bow of the ship, unseen by the others on deck._

_Juda climbed up the ropes at the bow, hanging like a net for one to lie on as she did. Drawing her knees up, her toes curled around the interlacing as she settled herself. Out of her patched breeches pocket came a golden trinket, a cheap necklace encrusted with much more expensive jewels. It had fallen from a sack of loot taken from a Trader ship that had gone down in a ferocious storm some months ago. Juda's sister, Pauha, who called herself Queen of the pirates, had taken a few others with her to pick over the wreckage. Rolling the cool metal and stones between her fingers, she mused over how to best pry the pretty stones from it without ruining them._

_The familiar sounds of her sister's restless speech brushed past the girl ignored. It was her brother's calm and collected words that caught her attention._

"_My dear sister, you worry too much. Things are nearly in place," he said off-handedly, his tone dismissing all thoughts of unrest. "Summersea will fall, and the raid by Glassfire-" here he smirked, "-will only be the first." There was silence as Pauha pondered this. Juda could see her face in her mind's eyes as she inspected her trinket; lips pursed, brow furrowed then slowly relaxing, the tanned skin smoothing out. Enahar could always be counted on to oversee things. After all, he was a university mage… for however much that mattered._

_Slipping the necklace back into her deep pocket, Juda turned her body over so that she lay stretched out on her stomach, looking down at her watery reflection on the glassy black sea, illuminated by the moon's light. Juda grinned, wide enough that she could just catch a glimpse of one gold-capped tooth. The girl in the water grinned back at her, face slightly distorted by ripples from the breeze._

_Pauha would scold her if she saw her like this, a risk Juda was willing to take with her siblings still only half the ship's length away. After all, Juda was a princess of pirates now, as sister to the queen. She could not act as rebellious as she had these past years, most certainly not around others. It would affect badly on them, and they would lose the loyal allegiance of the chiefs sailing under their lead. Common men would follow the greatest power easily enough, but the ones with enough intelligence to gain power of their own needed to be charmed._

_Juda knew that she was not included in that word 'them.' 'They' were Pauha and Enahar, working together for their own personal gain and pride. Juda was the mistake made by her parents, and the annoying pebble in her siblings' boots that could often be ignored, sometimes became useful, and never moved._

_But no one else needed to know that, and Juda was intent on the situation remaining that way._

"_What ship do we put the girl on? She can't be in my way," Juda heard Pauha say. A smile twisted on Juda's face. She had pride of her own, and her sister wouldn't hear the end of it if she was referred to in such a way to others. Caught up in her thoughts, the girl almost missed her brother's response._

"…_not as useless as you think, one day. Put her near the back where she won't be any trouble to us." There was a crackling, snapping sound as he stretched, then the heavy _thunk_ of his booted footsteps. "Good night, sister. Patience."_

_Faster than her brother, Juda used the ropes on the sides of the ship to swing herself towards the hatch. Slipping inside, she closed it carefully._

Oh goody,_ her mind worked, wolfish grin hidden by the dark as she made her way to her empty bed._ A backstage view of Summersea's slaughter. At least I won't be bored.

* * *

**Present**

The pool dragged at her from below the surface, the flaming mast fell from above.

In her terror Juda forgot herself; she filled her lungs with a deep, gasping breath, and in that same moment two things happened: the mast veered away in mid-air, rocked by the setting-off of a boom-stone, and a shard of it hit Juda in its path squarely on the shoulder.

Seconds later, as the pain of her fresh burn forced the girl into action, Juda made to swim and as she thrust down with her legs, the whirlpool claimed her as its victim.

She panicked as she was sucked down, eyes open and she closed them against the debris in the water. The icy sting against her injuries would have made her scream at any other time but not now, when air was so crucial.

Tossed from side to side like a worthless doll against the waves, Juda fought the pool with all her pent-up energy. Stretching out her arms, she pushed herself forward, attempting to go outwards despite the way she was turning and turning, all the while going down farther and farther.

Her outstretched hand – dyeing the water red with the blood that dribbled from its wound – brushed against something. Juda opened her eyes, her vision blurry, to see what she had found.

Deathly white and bloated, the slave's corpse fell quickly to the bottom of the pool, the iron links still binding its ankles together. Wide, staring eyes bore into hers.

Juda closed her eyes and kicked again, pushing at the tide with spread arms. She fought her way to the surface that she could feel, just beyond her reach.

She didn't notice when she became free of the pull of the whirlpool, or when first her legs and then her arms gave way. It was only a matter of minutes, but she was oblivious to all that went on around her, bent only on getting away from the horror. She clung to a ship hatch-cover, her bleary eyes catching sight of a small ship at the back of the fleet.

_Enahar._

Her brother was alive! Her sister was gone, but her brother--

Lightning split the air, giving birth to a rumbling, deafening thunder. The small ship exploded. Nothing was left of it but burning debris and wreckage, like so many others.

--was also gone.

Juda crawled wearily onto her hatch cover, able to fit her whole body on with room to spare. Floating aimlessly, she inspected her hands with dull eyes, the bruising already gone down as the splinter had worked its way free and the water cleaned the wounds.

When she'd come across her parents' dead bodies, horribly mutilated, their throats slit, in her father the captain's cabin, she hadn't shed a tear. Only eight years old then, she'd silently walked up the deck and announced, "They're dead," looking pointedly at her sister and brother. Later, Enahar told her – after Pauha had claimed to be captain from that day forth – that their parents were weak. She'd believed him. Even then, she'd had no toleration for weakness.

A warm, wet substance trickled down the side of her face. It ran into the corners of her mouth, and she was given the metallic taste of her own blood. She sat up, only to feel light-headed and dizzy. Falling limply back down, she was dimly aware of seeing the shoreline of Summersea Harbour come closer…

* * *

Thorvard tried to keep his dinner down as the longboat slid through the gore-filled waters. Dead, everywhere, and they'd already had to row carefully around some suspicious-looking boxes and barrels. They'd been told to search for survivors. Survivors! Thorvard snorted in disgust. What survivors could there be here? The only good pirate was a dead pirate!

Even so, they'd already sent a few back, badly wounded. He'd guessed them to be slaves.

"Dirty _jishen_," he muttered under his breath, using the Trader word. "I could be in my home, in bed, not worrying about having to clean up after them-"

"Over there!" someone behind him whispered. Thorvard looked behind him, then at the pointing finger. The boat bumped against another body; he pushed it away with a staff he'd been equipped with.

_Right,_ the skeptical man thought, sneering. _Pirate ghosts are going to attack. Curs'd they are, every last one of 'em!_

A body came into view. Unlike so many others, this one was alive. The small chest rose and fell slowly. Grabbing a lantern from the floor of the boat, he reached out with the staff and prodded the form to awake it even as they got closer. The light illuminated sharp features, shadows dancing over the creases of joints and clothing. Lifting the lantern a little higher yet, it cast a glow on the survivor.

"Why, it ain't more'n a girl!" came the soft exclamation from behind him. Covered in burns – couldn't be too bad, though, they were half-healed already – a good gash on her temple, scabbed over, and wearing-

"If that's only a girl, then I'm Dedicate Skyfire," Thorvard growled. "Bloody pirates!"

"Pirate or no," a cold voice said from the back of the boat. "Get her in here. We need not be here any longer."

Still muttering to himself, Thorvard bent over the edge of the longboat and lifted the girl in his arms. She moaned and shifted, but nevertheless he dumped her carelessly on the wooden bottom.

"Careful, man! Shurri and Hakkoi, you'd think she set it all up herself!"

Thorvard growled low in his throat, and sat down. Wrapping the girl with angrily trembling hands in a blanket, he set her down again slightly. Her blonde hair was streaked with crimson blood, so dark it looked black in the moonlight.

"She's got the Duke's justice. Let him and Harrier decide on the consequence for being what she is," Thorvard muttered under his breath. They neared the shore. Finally, he could get some much-needed sleep.

Funny, it almost seemed like the pirate chit was frowning at him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Tris sniffed and pushed her glasses farther up on her long nose to keep them from slipping with a soapy hand. She put down the filthy bandage she held and dropped it back into the tub of boiling water, inspected her red, cracked hands, and sighed. It was only her second day of service at the infirmaries and already she was beginning to regret her decision to help with the wounded from the pirate attacks.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ she wondered, drying her hands on a lone rag, possibly the only clean thing she'd seen there all day.

The sun was burning high and beating down on the citizens of Winding Circle, and the heat of the afternoon only heightened the horrible stench coming from the wards: flesh rotting from burns, old blood, and constant vomiting made Tris feel dizzy and sick herself, as well as the victims. She fought down the nausea as she left the laundering room to seek more chores.

A stressed Water Temple dedicate was dashing from room to room with armfuls of bandages, and caught sight of Tris in the hall. She beckoned to the girl with one hand, only to drop her burden on the floor. Squealing in distress – Tris thought she sounded much like a stuck pig – the woman went down on her knees to gather them up.

"Dirty pirates," Tris heard her muttering as she walked. "Not a whit of respect for dignity, you'd think even _they_ would be grateful for what we're doing…" The dedicate straightened as Tris approached, her stained blue habit rumpled and askew. "You, girl!" she said, as if Tris were not two feet in front of her. "Take some bandages and burn ointment and see to those… those _pirates _down there. Attend to all the burn victims on this floor." She dumped half the bandages into the girl's empty arms and hurried off.

Tris sighed again as she fetched jars of ointment from a room with supplies already half diminished. _Well, I did come to clear my conscience on them._ She hoped there was already water available; her arms and back hurt from carrying pails of it just about everywhere in the infirmaries.

"It's th' fat little redhead," a pirate captive, nearest to the door, sneered at her as she entered. He had lost an eye, and blood was caked over the hollow socket. Tris shivered and turned her back to him, kneeling down by a woman whose right arm needed serious attention. "What, ye don' like me? Ain't I purdy enough for ye's?" She heard behind her, laughter following.

As she went from captive to captive, she was able to tune out the snide comments made to her without losing her temper. She had nearly finished the room when, out of the corner of her eye, there was a flicker of silver light. Tris turned her head to pin it down, but it had gone. Shrugging her shoulders absent-mindedly, she dabbed her finger in the glass jar of ointment and smoothed it gently over a small burn marring the face of an unconscious young man. Even as she did, the light flickered again, this time paler, and she turned once more.

She found herself looking at a girl about her own age, her skin a light bronze colour – either from some country that she couldn't place, or tanned from being outdoors – but hair a pale blonde and sun-streaked. Tris found her gaze drifting over the sharp features, thin, nearly invisible pale eyebrows set high over dark green, slightly oval eyes. It took her a moment to realize that those eyes glared haughtily at her, voicing an unspoken command to look away that made Tris feel like a bug.

A crash brought Tris back to the real world, and she looked down at her empty hands that had a moment ago hosted a half-full jar. All that remained of the jar was now several feet away, shards of glass in a growing, oozing puddle. No longer able to control her temper, Tris could feel her hair begin to frizz from static. Those around her backed away as she stomped towards the mess, picked up the glass and placed it in the apron she wore over her dress to keep it from soiling, and promptly left the room, leaving the ointment where it was.

"Look after yourself," she muttered as she exited. "_Jishen_."

Juda was mad.

No, mad was an understatement. When she'd been lying in the bottom of the boat that rescued her from potential drowning, through the haze of need for sleep and nourishment, the comments of the man who'd picked her up had confused her and perhaps given her a quick flick of anger before she'd finally sunk into blissful unconsciousness again. When she'd woken up in the infirmaries only to be put through washing and healers poking and prodding her many injuries, and fed with slop fit only for her sister's slaves, then she'd been mad.

Now, her clothes taken and burned – she'd managed to salvage her sister's pendant – and with every healer that so much as looked at her whose faces wrinkled up like old prunes in an expression of revulsion, Juda was livid.

She was sick more than once because of the smell from those around her – slaves, and other pirates she'd not seen before. There had been one old man that she knew, but Juda thought he should have been executed for his uselessness beforehand anyways. She hadn't bothered to ever learn his name, and his death was no loss now. Still, the loneliness was slowly denting, chipping away at her stone exterior.

The dent's depth was about half the thickness of her thumbnail, but it was still chipping away. One might think.

Juda was placed in a small room with other captives and one lone slave. The slave seemed almost mortally injured, and died in a short amount of time – with no lack of help from those around him. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blank, even his thick skull could not be impermeable to the words of hatred directed at him. Juda had watched in curious fascination as the man seemed to grow smaller and smaller with every word once his eyes finally focused on his tormenters. When the healers came in and discovered his body, she'd feigned ignorance with all the others. Why get in trouble for something they didn't do? After all, the slave was injured.

And who cared about a slave? Even the healers were too stressed to pay much attention to their patients. Or maybe that was just because their patients were pirates.

Either way, Juda was still in a bad mood, an almost visible cloud around her person, when the redhead came into the room.

She'd seen the girl before, only once. Fat in a stained, ugly wool dress, sweat shining on her forehead, Juda had dismissed the girl at once and brought her own attention back to picking fretfully at the restraining bandages wrapped around her hands.

Now, as she came in, her arms full, to 'minister to the wounded', Juda still ignored her even as her fellow pirates taunted and teased. It wasn't until she noticed the girl staring stupidly at her that she bothered to pay her any notice. Glaring at the redhead – she didn't enjoy being scrutinized by a girl that seemed to that seemed to be her own age, as if she were an animal in a cage – Juda felt her temper at the situation and everything that had gone on bubble up beneath her skin.

A relaxed smile then came over her face as an exceptionally nasty man by the name of Arnon reached out a thin arm, flicking his wrist quickly. The jar of bad-smelling burn goop she'd held went flying, smashing to the ground.

The smile froze on Juda's face as the girl's face turned as red as her hair. Her hair began to rise out of the large braids it had been pinned back in, and she heard a barely audible snapping sound as the frail thread holding them snapped, and the girl's hair popped free. Small bolts of light raced through her curls… had Juda not thought the very idea inconceivable, she would have said they were miniature lightnings. Seed lightning.

_A mage?_

Impossible. The only mage Juda had ever known of that would have been capable of such things was Enahar, and he was dead. There were, of course, the _mimanders _that harnessed the very winds and tied them into knots for use that they had bargained with – before either slaughtering or enslaving them. Never in her short years had she seen an individual sprout lightning.

The redhead literally stormed out of the room, static trailing behind her and dancing now over her fingers and entire body. On either side of her, men and women shied away, raising eyebrows at each other and jerking their heads in her direction. Juda shook her head, pushed her loose blonde hair over her shoulder – bits of it had burned, leaving a few minor ends uneven. Adjusting the loose shift she was forced to wear, she curled on her side, ignoring the pain it caused and trying not to think of mages.

On the eighth day after their capture, the pirate captives were rounded up and sent to Summersea.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"Dirty _jishen_," whispered Tris, focusing on the brush in her hand and scrubbing hard at the floor. She washed away grime with every stroke, wiping it clean to reveal the shining wood underneath. She heard Niko walk around the room as she scrubbed, then kneel down beside her. He pushed his sleeves up his arms, wrapped his fingers around a brush, and dipped it in the pail next to them.

Teacher and pupil worked together in silence. Tris couldn't have read his thoughts if she had tried, after the conversation on control they'd had. Did he still think she'd acted rashly? She shuddered, thinking she'd dream of drowning slaves for the rest of her life.

Her thoughts turned to the captive she'd been serving the past several days. She sighed. It was in this very room that she'd been teased, taunted, and even lost her temper at those Daja called _jishen_. It was a handy word to describe what Tris felt towards the pirates that had tried to destroy her home and her friends. Her hand paused on the brush, a nagging memory rising her thoughts.

"Niko…"

"Yes, Tris?" the tall man turned to her, and she looked up at him, giggling a bit to see him with her on all fours. Clearing her throat, she sat back on her heels and scratched an itch on her nose with the back of her hand, a puff of suds transferring from hand to face unintentionally.

"Um," she began, frowning, frustrated with herself for stuttering. "The silver light that I see because you put that stuff on my spectacles…" He nodded, and she continued. "I saw it a lot when I was taking care of the pirates."

"You were probably seeing the magic in the bandages and medicines you were using," Niko said coolly, returning his attention to the floor. "I see magic everywhere – it's not difficult to mistake something."

Tris bit her lip hesitantly. Could she have been wrong? Every time, the same room, same people, same insistent flickering. She pressed her cause further, needing answers. "It wasn't the medicines, Niko, I'm sure," she said. He raised an eyebrow. "Every time I tried to pin it down, I was always looking at the same person – this girl. She was a… a pirate, I could tell, in a room full of them."

Niko was silent. The silence stretched, and Tris could not read anything behind her teacher's hooded black eyes. Shifting, her arm swiftly reached out and dumped her brush into the bucket – water sloshed over the sides and spilled onto the floor. "Well?"

"I'll see what I can do, Tris. I can't promise anything," he finally replied. "As I said before, you could most possibly have been mistaken. However, an untrained mage is a danger to all." A corner of his mouth twisted upwards. "As you quite well know." The girl's face turned pink. "Now then," he continued, briskly pushing up his sleeves as they fell down his arms. "Let us finish this room and leave this place as soon as possible, shall we?"

Sighing in relief – one less thing to worry about – Tris knelt down and scrubbed harder.

"So then…?"

"No, Niko, no. I repeat, no. You must be joking, and you know I certainly do not appreciate…"

"The trial is tomorrow."

"Damn you, Goldeye!"

Light struck Juda's eyes, and the girl grimaced. She ran her tongue – swollen with lack of the water she'd refused from the guard – over her cracked lips and tasted blood. _I should just swallow my pride and stop shunning food,_ she thought in a deep crevice of her mind. Shaking away the idea – she had her pride, and she fully intended on keeping it, thank you very much! – Juda stretched her legs that she had curled up to her chest in sleep against the cold wall of the cell, and looked up at the intrusion. It was dawn – nothing could be seen but blackness through the small, high window several feet above her head. The light came from a lantern at the entrance, the flame flickering and spluttering in an overkill of oil.

"Hurry up, already!" a deep voice growled. The girl could just make out the figures of two men in guard's uniforms, tugging at something that hung from the ceiling. There was a loud thud as the object fell to the ground. Her body jerked. The light fell on her, and she quickly shut her eyes, feigning sleep. There were footsteps. From beneath her closed lids she could feel the flame draw away, and they fluttered open again. The guards were gone, the body with them.

The older woman that had been dozing beside her hours earlier was now dead to the world – and, it seemed, so was the object that she'd heard fall to the ground, in a more literal sense. Wriggling out from between the people on either side of her – it was quite crammed in the small holding cell – Juda snatched her sister's necklace and held it in her fist. Pulling her hand to her chest, she crawled with one arm to the empty space. She felt claustrophobic, and needed air.

Lying down, she drew in a sharp gasp and scuttled quickly away. Letting fly a string of colourful curses with flavours from all over the Pebbled Sea, she groped in the darkness, horrified yet fascinated. Slowly she looked back at what had frightened her so.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the cell, she saw the faint outline of a rope in the shape of a noose. Dark blood stained the rim of it, dripping onto the ground where she had lain. One hand reaching to the small of her back, she drew it away at a slight wet stickiness. Making a face, Juda resigned to crawling back to her former spot, and leaned against the cold wall. Only a few more hours; then she faced the Duke of Emelan. Or at least his representative. His _grace_ would in all likeliness not be there to deal with people so low as pirates.

"Niko, you didn't… Lark, he wouldn't have, would he?" Tris turned wide eyes on her friend's teacher.

"Yes, my dear, I do believe he would."

"She'll be eaten." A voice said bluntly from an open door across from the main room.

"Which one?" A brown chin plunked down onto hands of the same chocolaty colour.

"I doubt that, Briar."

"Well, that's one way to get rid of pirates."

Duke Vedris IV, the ruler of Emelan, looked over his captives with a mix of distaste and satisfaction. The old pirate chaser looked rather foreboding – and no wonder, considering the circumstances he was in his courtroom for. Middle-aged with a hooked nose, deep-set dark brown eyes, shaved head, and fleshy features, he seemed completely unapproachable and in a dark mood.

Many of the pirates had died in their own attack on Summersea harbour, whether in battle or from injuries afterwards. The group that filed into the large chamber now was the second in the day that the jury was to deal with – the others had already been sentenced to different fates; slave labour, death or life-time service to Emelan and its residents. This group seemed to be the stragglers, in clothes given to them by healers and stained with blood, slow-healing wounds visible on faces and arms.

There had already been interrogations, leaders executed, and he'd heard that a potential witness had committed suicide rather than betray his leader. Either the man was a fool, Vedris mused, hadn't heard of the mage Enahar and his sister Pauha's deaths, or there was something else that he had sacrificed his life to keep hidden. It mildly interested him to know of such things, but to his left the judge was eyeing him.

The judge could stew for a little while longer. As the last of the captives – wrists shackled, legs hobbled on some of the more nasty-looking ones – were brought in, he was surprised to see the form of a young girl, no older than his own great-niece Sandrilene. Or a girl he thought she might be; the child had an androgynous look, and for a moment he wasn't quite sure if he was looking at a pretty boy or a plain girl from this distance, despite the long blonde hair. Sitting back in his chair, Vedris shook his head slightly. How young did those pirates raise their children to be like them, in any case?

There was a tap at his shoulder. He turned – a nervous boy shifted from foot to foot, dressed as a page. Smiling slightly, Vedris allowed the boy to deliver his message in a hushed voice. His smile disappeared, and he nodded at the judge to continue with the sentencing. Standing up, the duke of Emelan quietly exited the room.

- - -

The ropes were chafing her wrists. Not that her skin was flower petal-soft, but the thick cords hurt and Juda's temper was rising. What could they do, in any case? Her dark green eyes had already begun taking in every detail of her surroundings the moment she entered the chamber. Large and echoing every sound made, she heard low voices buzzing and the shuffle of papers from the clerks at their intricately designed tables like everything else in the room.

Her eye had also caught that of her prosecutors – the magistrate and the duke. For a moment she didn't recognize her main enemy, in his simple, dark-coloured clothes of no extravagance. Still, his station was evident in his presence and manner. A low growl emerged from her throat; several people gave her dirty looks, but she wasn't sure if they were reactions to her voiced opinion or simply to her being in their line of vision.

The pirates were rounded up into a small area before the jury. As the testimony was read, Juda noted that the duke up and left the room. A smirk twisted its way onto her face; she'd been right. Too good for her kind, was he? But then, why would someone in such high standing as him care about the crime and justice in his land? One day she hoped he'd fall off his high horse and break his neck in the act; and she anticipated being there when he did.

"Already judged us, why don't they just get on with it?" someone muttered beside her.

"Makes them feel like they're doing something," another hissed. Their voices were best described as 'glum'. They didn't look forward to slave labour for the rest of their lives.

_Neither do I,_ Juda considered.

One by one they were being led away. The words 'labour' and 'service' seemed to jump out at her. Service to the very people they'd been intent on killing and taking from? She spat on the floor in disgust. She'd kill herself long before she'd ever serve _these_ people, uppity as they were.

Someone pushed her from behind; Juda opened her mouth to snap at them when she realized that the judge was looking over her, obviously surprised to see a girl of her age. _Maybe I'll get off lucky,_ she thought, allowing her mouth to shape itself into a grin. She smoothed the skin on her face, her expression chaste. The hard light in her eyes dimmed.

Her innocent demeanor seemed to work. The judge's face softened slightly, and he cleared his throat.

"Children are often guileless and easily molded," he began. Juda felt triumph blossom in her. "However," She froze. "Even a short lifetime of wickedness is enough to condemn anyone." The judge jerked his head, his eyes now cold. Juda felt strong hands on her forearm, in too much shock to resist being dragged.

"Excuse me," a crisp voice interrupted the judge as he began to speak once more. Heads turned. In the open double doors of the chamber stood a dark-haired figure.

"I have a proposal."


End file.
